The Outline of My Body            

I’m hiding at my table

trying to earn the truth

to justify the suicides

of other opened eyes

who cried over a baby blanket

too unraveled

that accidentally lost its form

in an old washing machine


I think the dead

are on my side

feeding me lines

with chocolate everything

my first party of the morning

chocolate and caffeine

I could have taught them

how to live


Inviting me to a dinner party

for the history

of the outline of my body

asking me to lie

in the hollow mold

and when it is time

they are there

they are there

my teachers

each one knows




* Published in The American Poetry Review November/December 2003 as # 24